"....and you're how old now?"

That little bit of thought no one thinks about
NOVEMBER 27, 2010 11:17PM

Two Weeks In August--Ch. 8

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yogiproctor-1 

Denis loved the young ones, the pretty ones, the ones who didn't have enough self-esteem to cross a busy street without worrying they'd get hit by cars. Denis cruised them easily in the clubs. He looked for the 'one' who was alone which meant he was alone in life where no one would ever miss him if  he disappeared off the face of the earth.

So the night he left me, he went to someone else and that easy. There were so many of these young, pretty men that Denis drooled like a sick baby over them. And when he found one, a shy college kid with a slim waist and deep brown eyes, Denis knew he had to be fast and quick.

Denis's car was a newer BMW. Every rich gay had one and the young, pretty college student was intrigued. In the back, a quick handjob, and Denis easily circled his big hands around the pretty student's neck and pressed hard and hard and harder until the pretty student stopped breathing. Denis covered his big body over the still warm body of the non-moving kid. Denis kissed and stroked the young man all through the fifty miles or so east of Los Angeles, and dumped the now cold body into a gully. And when the rains fell a few hours later, the rush of the cold water washed any trace of Denis who hummed and giggled as he drove south back to San Diego. He wanted to come back again. He wanted to come back for me.

But when he did come back I wouldn't open the door and Denis waited and tapped his expensive leather Gucci shoes on the worn wood of the front porch. With a quick wack, Susan brought him down with one blow of a piece of wood she found in my backyard. She looked over his broken head, the blood slowly and thickly coming out, as I peered through the front window. She nodded her head and I opened the door and we both dragged him into the living him.

Denis was still alive but barely and Susan and I stood over him. "Man, that was good." I smiled but Susan didn't. She never changed. She didn't like me, but she hated Denis more. I never knew for a long time until that morning. I worred if Susan was going to get me. But she never did. I helped her mother when she tried to run away from Joe. Neither of us understood her parent's relationship. It was volatile, crazy, stupid, and made no sense at all.

Susan dropped the heavy wood next to Denis who snorted and woke up and began yelling. She picked up the wood again and Denis stopped when he saw it and me. He rolled over onto his back and said, "Why didn't you kill me?"

I shrugged my shoulders, staring at his face and how much I wanted to kiss it. But Susan read my mind. "I might later on. Or I'll have him do it," and Susan pointed to me. I wasn't shocked, but I wasn't sure if I was able to kill someone I loved. I realized, though, I was one of those young and pretty kids Denis loved so much. He love them so much he wanted me dead.

So it was either Denis or me, and Susan was going to decide. But Kat and Joe pushed the first stone. Denis came to live with me, Joe died, Susan became my "friend," and I stared at a defient Denis who would've gladly cut my throat.

 

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Yeow! Reminds me of my missing twenties. Oh the people you come across. :D >r